Symphony no1: Sonata of Souls
by The Moonlight's Marionette
Summary: Ichigo/ Aizen. Haunted by the casualties of the bitter war, Ichigo travels back in time to tempt the hand of fate. hints of Ichi/Ura. SLASH.
1. Symphony no 1: Sonata of Souls

War doesn't determine who's right, but who's left.

~

The battle was fierce, as are all battles that decide the fate of many, and hold countless lives in the balance.

Somehow Ichigo felt as if he'd always been fighting; always had to pick up a weapon in order to defend and protect what was his.

What was important to him.

The weapon, be it his fist or sword, always felt like an extension of himself that he could strengthen with his determination and perseverance.

Strengthen to protect.

And that always worked.

In the end, it didn't lure him into a false sense of security, he walked right in. Because no matter what, and no matter the amount of determination and will power, two hands can only grasp what lies within their reach.

If only he'd accepted it sooner.

His body hurt like hell on earth.

He knew pain, far too well for a boy his age, but this particular ache was in a league of its own.

Broken ribs, broken bones, bruises, scars, you name it, he had it. It was a miracle that he was even alive right now.

Breathing was painful, moving was painful, just existing right now, was painful.

A sharp pain gripped his side just as he opened his eyes from sleep. He tried to move his hand but his body was stiff from lack of use.

He hadn't moved in days.

The plain green ceiling of the room he was in had become his television of sorts. He couldn't move his head to see anything else.

He had no idea how long he'd been like this. As far as he could tell from the lack of light and sound, the room was windowless, prohibiting him from knowing the time of day or even how many days had passed.

All he knew was that he was hurting badly.

Every muscle in his body throbbed.

He'd been injured in fights before, been cut down by many different unique swords but he never felt anything like this.

Maybe he never felt it then because he was being driven by his instincts. Maybe he never allowed himself the time to feel it, or maybe because ishe/i was always there, ready to heal him.

Help him.

So, this was the power of iBenihime/i.

His ears were greeted by a muffled noise that somehow sounded familiar. The door to his room was pulled across and someone stepped in quietly, before closing it again. His breath hitched and before he knew it, he was flooded with panic.

His head was spinning.

Where was he?

Was he caught by one of Aizen's arrancar?

Vulnerable as he was now, he was easy prey, even worse Zangetsu was too far away for him to reach, propped up neatly against the corner.

What could he do?

He tried with all his might to make his hands move, the effort straining his body.

Too late.

The person was standing above him.

"Ahh, I see you're awake, Kurosaki-kun."

He eased a bit. That slightly playful voice, the pronunciation of his name.

"K-Kisuke-" His voice was cracked and dry. It sounded strange, like maybe it belonged to someone else and not himself.

That's right. What had come over him? Of course he was by Urahara. Why did he think that he was somewhere else just now?

Urahara stood above him, smiling serenely, eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat, holding bandages and a bowl.

"I'm glad you're awake. I was beginning to worry, Kurosaki-kun," he said rather casually, placing the items beside Ichigo.

Ichigo bristled at the blatant way he was speaking, when he was the one that put Ichigo here in the first place.

The man had nerve; it was tucked away along with many things beneath that fake smile.

He knelt on the floor. Ichigo couldn't see what he was doing and it worried him. He tried to move his head but still no luck.

Urahara's hands pressed on either side of his face and gently turned his head so that he faced him and could see what he was doing.

Ichigo was surprised. "Thank you, how did you know I needed that?"

Urahara smiled easily dipped a cloth into the bowl of warm water. "Your simplistic needs are very easy to read."

Ichigo scoffed and narrowed his eyes. "Why you- ugh." He glared at Urahara who had just purposely poked him in the side on a very sensitive rib.

"It's not polite to complain, Kurosaki-kun, especially to people who use their time to treat your wounds."

"Hmpf, like you have anything better to do."

Urahara placed his finger near the wound again, threatening another poke for the rude talk. "As a matter of fact, I do."

"Fine, fine," Ichigo conceded, sighing in relief when Urahara nodded. The man pressed lightly against his abdomen and tried to remove some of the bandages and Ichigo wondered idly when the man had become so mild. A little more and he wondered if he could even feel the fingers dancing across his body.

"Please hold still, I want this to hurt as little as possible," Urahara instructed soothingly, not breaking eye contact for a long time.

Ichigo blinked. He would have liked to look away, but he had no control of his body, so he had to endure it.

That strange look in Urahara's eyes that didn't quite seem right.

{}

i"Ne, Kurosaki-kun, I um…" Orihime lowered her eyes and shifted on her feet nervously. Her face was red, clashing horribly with her bright hair.

"I…"

"What is it, Inoue?" Ichigo asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning back from taking the road that led to his house and separated them.

The sky was glazed ginger from the already setting sun, throwing shadows over the street. Ichigo shoved his hand in his pocket and waited.

She looked up at him shyly but then looked away again under his burning gaze and reached into her bag.

Ichigo was honestly confused by her behavior. Inoue was always a little on the strange side in his opinion, but he guessed that made her who she was, and it was initially what drew him to her.

He could see her knees shaking when she walked up to him.

"I- I- Happy Birthday!" she said quickly. And very loudly. She presented a small, wrapped box to him in humble anticipation.

After checking to make sure that his hearing was still intact, Ichigo accepted the gift from her. "Inoue…"

"I hope you like it, I stayed up all night making it. It was very hard and I was really hungry since I hadn't eaten all day and I didn't have any red bean paste to make a snack. I had some cake left but if I ate cake so late at night I'd get a bellyache and I don't like-"

"Thank you, Inoue." He cut off her nervous rambling with a soft smile. "If it's from you, I'm sure I'll like it."

She was hesitant at first, but then her smile mirrored his. She looked so happy. She always did. Ichigo never knew how she achieved it. If only he could ask her now, the secret for smiling through everything.

If only…

Her face faded./i

Ichigo sucked in a mouthful of air and gulped it down into his lungs. The same dream. He'd been having it every time he slept, and sometimes when he just closed his eyes.

He could see her smiling face burned into his eyes lids. It was all he would allow himself to see. Not the tears that fell from her eyes, nor the blood that had gushed.

His progress was slow.

Very slow.

The hours crept by slower and slower each day but his injuries seemed to have their own sense of time.

Urahara came in everyday to change his bandages and wipe him off.

Ichigo could admit that he was pretty slow about certain things, but he never once asked where Tessai- san was.

On the outside, Urahara was his same old self, never shedding his calm mask and dishing out the smiles in abundance.

But for reasons unknown to Ichigo, he could tell that he wasn't alright. He was too quiet, too eager to say cheerful things and latch on to any piece of conversation Ichigo was willing to offer.

Ichigo started looking forward to seeing the man, and not because he had nothing else to do.

Something about him seemed so familiar and warm that he wondered if he had taken too many hits to the head. To be acting like that in such a short space of time and just so sudden?

He found the man's smiles comforting when they were genuine. The gentle care was welcomed, and the fact that he never brought up what happened made Ichigo more than thankful.

But it was eating him alive.

The dreams.

The thoughts.

The denial.

The sadness.

The guilt. So overwhelming that he often vomited when he even though about it.

He saw their faces everywhere. Smiling, happy, determine, laughing with him, fighting together.

Gone.

Dead.

It was during the third week, that Urahara became concerned by his eating habits. He'd been eating before because he was weak and needed nourishment, but nothing was staying down now and he was taking its toll on his body.

He felt even weaker, and he was plagued by headaches. He'd lost his appetite soon after, and refused to eat anything.

Urahara was persistent and brought food everyday and tried for hours to make Ichigo eat something. It was no use. He couldn't even look the man in the eye anymore. He just stayed curled in on himself , staring at the wall, trying his best not to let the tears overcome him

"One, two, three," Urahara grunted as he hoisted Ichigo from under his arms and put him to sit up straight so that his back rested on the wall for support.

It shouldn't have been hard. He wasn't as weak as he looked and considering how light Ichigo had gotten from the weight he lost it should have been easy. But Ichigo was resisting, refusing to sit up.

He wanted to die. He wanted to be left alone. But the former shinigami was having none of it.

Urahara lifted some rice with the chopsticks but Ichigo turned his head away resolutely.

"Kurosaki-kun, you'll be sick if you don't eat properly."

"I'll be sick, eh. What exactly would you call what I am now," Ichigo mumbled irritably.

"Grieving."

Ichigo looked into the older man's eyes which were pleading with him to understand; begging him for something he wasn't quite sure he had.

He'd been here too long. Alone without them for too long. He'd been in the strange shop keeper's company for too many days. That's why he was seeing these things; that's why he couldn't look away from the sad olive eyes trained on his.

"How? Why… I don't understand, I remember but I…" he started. He needed to talk about this. To let it out.

But he wanted to keep it inside of him. He didn't want to talk about it. It was too painful. He wanted to lock it away forever. It sickened him, that he couldn't even look at his precious sword anymore.

Ichigo grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged it hard to make his eyes water and to keep himself grounded form the sharp sting. Too much conflicting thoughts, he felt like he would explode.

"How do you feel?" Urahara asked.

"What kind of stupid question is that!" Ichigo snapped. Urahara didn't flinch, he put down the chopsticks carefully, his hat covering his eyes. "A very important one," he answered seriously.

Ichigo took a deep breath. "Confused, disoriented. I remember some of it but I don't know, it's all fuzzy…"

Urahara was silent for a full minute before speaking.

"This war has seen many losses-" he began, " It is certainly no one's fault. Aizen's side has taken a great deal of fatalities as well. He's retreated back to Hueco Mundo though I doubt it will be for too long." Urahara took Ichigo's hand from pulling his own hair and clasped it in his.

"Everyone fought for what they believed in. The shinigami' suffered and-" he paused for the briefest of moments though his voice didn't waver and he struggled to maintain eye contact, "the vizards."

"I killed them. Ino-"

"Ichigo." Urahara said sternly, squeezing his hand. But Ichigo wasn't listening, and he didn't notice the intimate use of his first name.

"There must be something…" He was breaking out in cold sweat and shivering.

"Ichigo." Urahara grabbed his frail shoulders and shook them lightly. When he still didn't respond, the man pulled him toward him. Before he could stop himself, he buried his face in the mess of red hair.

Ichigo barely registered the feel of all the wounds on his chest reopening. This feeling, the feel of this man embracing him like this. Why was this so…

"Please don't do this," Urahara whispered in his ear.  
Ichigo went rigid.

"D-Do what?" He was surprised he could even talk at this point. Kisuke, no Urahara, touched his cheek with his hand and Ichigo shivered. The older man's stubble tickled him from his closeness.

Unparalleled nostalgia swept over him.

Urahara pulled back slightly and brushed their noses. Ichigo vaguely remembered him doing it before and his cheeks burned up.

In fact his whole body burned.

"This," Urahara answered softly.

Ichigo's eyes fluttered.

Kisuke pressed their lips together. It was the last thing he felt before black dots pricked before his eyes and his head spun out of control. His lips slid away as his head fell limply onto Kisuke's strong shoulders.


	2. Symphony no 2: Dreamscape

***Sigh* I hereby give you all permission to hate/ curse/ stab/ gouge my eyes out, whatever floats your boat. I apologize profusely for the long wait for this chapter _. Procrastination, writer's block from space, and a bunch of other things contributed to this being so late, but I named this week Author's Week and have secluded myself from all things distracting and will put all my focus into updating all my fics :D. Let me just say I never expected this to be so well received! Thank You all your reviews really made me happy. Ceres, Gasanechi, cherryblossom1217, Mena, Naome 666, sbwTrish, someone-really-lazy, slyswn28, DarkBombayAngel. Thanks!**

Knowing that I have readers who are looking forward and expecting my updates lights a fire under my butt and keeps me going. ^_^ *hugs* Hope you like this chapter. I put a lot effort into it and since I took so long the writing style might be a tad different. I promise that you will never have to wait that long for an update again!

Pale moonlight filtering through a window and casting a patch of blue light across his face, was the first thing that sent the alarm bells in Ichigo's mind ringing madly. He was certain, without a doubt, that the secluded room- which he was now recognizing as a prison if anything- that Urahara had supplied him with, had nothing of the sort.

It was often dark, unless Urahara decided it was to his fancy to light a solitary candle as a light source when he came to aid Ichigo, or just felt that the boy – being a human being and all - needed something that wasn't complete darkness.

But there was no way anything from the outside could reach him, which meant that he was somewhere else. Somewhere he didn't remember going to.

His body didn't hurt any more, not even a dull throb remained, and that was the second thing that nudged at his senses. He moved a long arm from his side and flexed his fingers in front of him to gauge his consciousness. As of late, he'd been feeling disoriented when he woke up sometimes, like if he was in the wrong place, or expecting to be in another.

The room vaguely resembled the one he had at the shouten. There was nothing really to distinguish them apart. They were both bare, except for the futon he slept on with nothing else of major interest.

He also noticed, admittedly a little late, a shadow looming in the corner, the full outline of a person. He instinctively reached for Zangetsu. It wasn't there. Of course it wouldn't be. He didn't even have the slightest idea where he was.

He sat bolt upright. "Who's there? Kisuke?"

" 'Fraid not," the hoarse voice mocked.

Ichigo didn't recognize it but the worst thing to do in a situation like this was panic.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

The cloaked figure stepped out, his head bent to conceal his face. There was no reiatsu coming from him. Not shinigami or hollow. Was he human? Or concealing it well?

"I asked you what you wanted from me," Ichigo growled, though feeling a little vulnerable without his zanpaktou.

"Now, now, there's no need for that, Ichigo-kun. I'm only here to put an end to a particularly troublesome _problem_ of yours."

The voice sounded so familiar, but Ichigo still couldn't grasp it.

Stiffening, he prepared himself for if brute strength was needed. Not something he liked to depend on but he couldn't see any other options at the moment. He had no sword, no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there, and no way to determine his opponent's strength.

"And what problem would that be?" He could buy time and try to read this person and find out something, if he could. He figured that if they wanted to attack they could have done so already, or killed him when he was sleeping not too long ago.

A broad smile flitted underneath the hood exposing rows of frighteningly sharp teeth. Arrancar? But no reiatsu…

"The one tha' causes you ta have dreams like this," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Dream?"

The question was met with another smile. "Oops, did I say that?"

Ichigo growled low in his throat. "Stop messing around. Whatever you've got to say spit it out."

"Follow me."

Ichigo had no intention of obeying this command and he made it known by scoffing loudly. "Don't order me around."

"You're really pissin' me off, ya know that."

"Same here, bastard," Ichigo bit back.

"Che."

Ichigo could swear he heard the person grumbling under his breath and felt somewhat proud of himself. "Looks like things aren't exactly going your way. Mind telling me where my sword is?"

"So you don't want my help?" The sly smile that he was beginning to dislike was back, mocking him and twisting his insides with its insinuation.

"You know, Ichigo-kun, no one blames you for what happened," he whispered slyly, deliberately. "But then how can they, they're dead and the ones who aren't well-"

"S-Shut up." Ichigo barely managed to find his voice though he wished that it hadn't cracked so pathetically.

"I'm just trying to help."

"Like hell, I don't need your help!" Ichigo spat, blood simmering now that their little talk was going in a direction he'd rather it not. He didn't need any help, and he was sure that there was nothing this so - called person could do anyway. There was nothing anyone could do.

"Easy, easy," he soothed, shielding himself with his hands. "I'd like to peacefully convince ya, but unfortunately, I'm not that patient of a guy." He lifted his right hand up slowly and pointed a long finger at Ichigo.

All Ichigo could do was watch, curious what he was about to do. He wasn't sure, but he could cross off a cero or anything of the like off the list, and his enemy wasn't armed with anything he could see. Eyes narrowing, he watched carefully for any movements he could pick up on and dodge if necessary.

He waited, expecting a powerful attack but none came. Instead his body quivered with a faint trembling.

"What the-" He looked down quizzically as his knees bent themselves and his arms pushed his body up off the ground. He was about to protest but before he could react, his body flew up on its own and slammed into the wall with a loud crash.

"Whoops, looks like I pulled a little too hard," the hooded figure said with a hint of amusement.

Ichigo rubbed his head irritably. True his injuries were gone but they were likely to be replaced by new ones at this rate. "Are you trying to kill me, dumbass!?"

A large smile was the reply. "Sorry, sorry. Let's try that again shall we?"

"No thanks, I can walk on my own."

"That's more like it. Follow me. And actually do it this time," he teased, with a clear hint or warning.

Ichigo scowled but didn't voice his annoyance. The man turned to face the door, but instead of opening it, passed right through, calling Ichigo after with his index finger.

Ichigo was hesitant, and rightly so. Someone who was not a spirit had just gone through a solid wall and was asking him to do the same. The would-be kidnapper seemed harmless enough, if he ignored the fact that he could control his body with some strange power. He didn't harm him and didn't show any signs of wanting to. Ichigo didn't trust him, but the sooner he went, the sooner he could find out what was going on.

He pressed a hand to the surface of the wall tentatively and miraculously, it went right through which left him awed because as far as he could tell, he wasn't in his shinigami form.

After the initial shock subsided, Ichigo stepped through and emerged on the other side which was the middle of a narrow hallway.

"Took ya long enough, thought ya got lost," he smirked. Ichigo thoroughly ignored his pleased sneer..

"Yeah well I don't normally follow cloaked men through walls. How did I do that by-"

"I told ya already didn't I, this is a dream. Well, let's get a move on shall we."

Ichigo frowned; obviously he wouldn't be getting any answers on that subject so he walked in silence and took in his surroundings which looked very similar to...

"Hey, isn't this Urahara's shouten?" The layout was exactly the same.

"Finally noticed have ya, smart guy."

"I think I hate you." Ichigo was watching him intently, but the fact that that would get him no closer to the man's identity was altogether obvious.

They walked silently, weaving their way through the shop until they stopped dead at a door to the back. Had the shop always been this vast?

"This is it," the man announced

"What is this? I've never seen this before," Ichigo said looking around the dark, unfamiliar corridor.

"I'm not surprised." He ghosted in, again moving through the wall and this time Ichigo was quick to follow. The inside resembled a laboratory, with lots of machines and gadgets all around. He led Ichigo to the back, to the darkest corner, to the biggest thing of all.

"Here it is."

It reminded Ichigo of the sekkai gate in which Urahara had helped them get to souls society and also to Hueco Mundo.

"W-What is this?"

"Scared?" he smirked. "_This_, is what will help you."

"How?"

"This, Kurosaki Ichigo, is a machine to elude the passage of time. To put simply, a Time Machine"

"A time machine?" Ichigo echoed in disbelief. Even though he battled hollows and saw spirits so often to be considered normal, the idea of something like this was unbelievable.

"Though I should tell you that Urahara would advise against it," the man said, cutting through his thoughts.

"Why?"

"Isn't being Urahara Kisuke reason enough," he replied smoothly.

"Hardly." Ichigo wasn't altogether convinced. This room was far from everything else, this gate was at the back half-hidden. Maybe all of these things were not meant to be found.

"I'm not so sure about this," muttered Ichigo, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting on his feet.

There was no smile this time. "Would you like ta hear somethin' good?"

Ichigo hesitated, his eyes wide. "What is it?"

"You're healing is taking a lot of time isn't it? It's been what… months now that you had those wounds?"

Ichigo hadn't thought about it. Had it really been months? He tried to keep track of every time he was brought food so that he could at least measure the days. But Urahara fed him simple food that could have easily been lunch or dinner and every time Ichigo asked about anything on the outside, the man would become purposely vague.

"So? Is that it?"  
"Your healing has been slowed dramatically; because your reiatsu is being contained."

"Contained?"

"Stop repeatin' me, it's annoying, Ichigo-kun." The sickeningly sweet way in which the man said his name made Ichigo shiver with disgust.

"And please refrain from asking me the stupid question that you are about to. Who the culprit is should be obvious."

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.

"Here, you will need this if you wish to enter here in the waking world." He held out his palm, his mouth pulled in a tight frown waiting for Ichigo to take it on his own, to see if he was capable of making such a decision.

Ichigo hesitated, uncertainty and fear creeping up his spine. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing the cold metal and took it.

"How do I-"

"The key will unlock this door. All you need to do is pass through the gate. It'll take you where you need to go."

"But-" Ichigo didn't have time to ask any more questions, his body felt light as air, and was quickly evaporating into mist. He was being pulled upward by an unseen force. His body was disappearing but he clutched at the key tightly, surprising himself.

The hooded man grinned widely at this and for the first time that night, he raised his head up and lifted the hood off his face. Ichigo got a good look and nearly gasped. Just as he was about to call out the name, he was there no more.

Ichigo sat up too quickly and aggravated his bandaged ribs. Disoriented and horribly thirsty, he sucked in a breath as the pain rippled throughout his body.

A single candle flickered next to him from his sudden movement, but became still when he settled his breathing and relaxed back onto the futon.

A dream, not like the others but by no means better. It was already dissipating, falling away from his memory each moment that he was awake. He tried to hold on to it but it was like trying to hold a mist with bare hands and the bits and pieces floated away, including the identity of the cloaked man. He tried in vain to remember but it was no good.

He did remember something so it wasn't a total loss. That _something_ being what the person had showed him. The maze that they had walked through and the door they had discovered.

Now that Ichigo was giving it proper thought, it may have been just an ordinary dream, it was feeling farther and farther away. But his consciousness at the time was surprising. It had felt so real, but don't all dreams feel that way?

Urahara came soon after to bring his lunch – or maybe it was breakfast? It was food, so it didn't really matter. He was well enough now to feed himself, without making a complete mess but Urahara pretended not to notice in favor of feeding him himself.

Ichigo felt more relaxed around the man who was jovial as usual and keen to keep up conversation, but the memory of what he had been told kept him from being fully responsive and only served to worsen his usual bad mood. The idea of asking him about the room surfaced but he pushed it back down.

_Though I should tell you the Urahara would advise against it. Isn't being Urahara Kisuke reason enough?_

The words just replayed themselves in his head and with every smile the man gave him he just sunk further and further into confusion.

Why was Urahara hiding such a thing? Something of such immense power that could do so much.

Why didn't he tell anyone about it?

Ichigo always knew that Urahara was an intelligent man in his own right, even a little obsessive. Such a thing wasn't not out of his reach to create and Ichigo didn't doubt that he did create it, but why wasn't he inclined to use it?

The logical part of his brain, the side which often prevailed, told him the answer may be quite obvious. Urahara wouldn't deliberately hide something like this, it may have malfunctioned, or maybe unfinished.

It could also be in the middle of testing and Urahara wanted to ensure that it was functioning properly before announcing it.

It was as likely an explanation as any. But the other side, the side that usually lay dormant and thought nothing of logic, awakened. It was being hidden, but that wasn't the worst of it and what Ichigo was most concerned about. It was what he was told about his reiatsu.

"Urahara?" Ichigo asked between mouthfuls of something very brown and lumpy. Soup hopefully. So why did he need chopsticks to eat it.

"Yes, Ichigo-Kun?"

"Something's been bothering me for a while now."

"What might that be?" Urahara asked cautiously, chopsticks laden with food hovering outside of Ichigo's mouth, playfully jabbing them at his cheeks like a child.

"Why can't I leave this room?"

"Because you're not yet healed," he answered indifferently. Ichigo didn't know how he could tell, but he knew Kisuke was relieved. _Figured he'd say something like that._ But Ichigo wasn't quite ready to give up yet.

"Really? Because it feels like I'm being kept in," he pressed forcefully.

"Nonsense, Ichigo-Kun. Now open wide and say _ahhh_." Urahara chided him lightly, and opened his mouth, trying to get an unwilling Ichigo to do the same.

Ichigo had had it with his games. "Is that why my reiatsu is being blocked!?"

The smile slipped off Urahara's lips at this.

"My, my. How did you arrive at that conclusion," Urahara said silkily, slowly setting the bowl aside and pulling out his trademark fan- that coupled with his hat- completely hid his face.

"I-Its true then?" Ichigo couldn't stop himself from stuttering at hearing it. Secretly, he'd hoped that the person in his dreams was wrong. Why would Kisuke do this? The same reason he was hiding the room. But Ichigo still couldn't get his mind around it.

At that moment, Urahara closed his fan with aloud snap and rose to his feet. Before he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder with a gaze that Ichigo didn't quite like.

"The reason you are being 'contained' is very simple. Right now, you are, in hiding, and because you unconsciously leak tremendous amounts of reiatsu, it would be ridiculously easy for shinigami to find you. That would be problematic."

Ichigo literally felt his jaw drop, one hand tightening on his chopsticks and the other on the blanket that he was pulling to cover his lower body. "Hiding ? Is it… because of what happened in Hueco Mundo?" Despite himself, he began to shiver.

Urahara's gaze narrowed slightly, and the tightness in his shoulders showed, but he didn't reply. With a heavy sigh, he turned around and pried the eating utensils from Ichigo's frozen fingers and collected the bowl with half- eaten food.

Ichigo wouldn't eat anymore.

He had wanted to avoid this matter at any cost but Ichigo's accusations and inquiries wouldn't allow it anymore. He should have expected as much.

"Ichigo…"

"Why are you helping me?" Ichigo interrupted before the statement was finished.

Urahara was slightly surprised by the irritated nip in his voice but couldn't bring himself to be put off by it. "I wonder…"

Taking in the conflicting feelings in his expression, Urahara felt an unusual stab of pity right in his chest, and moved to again feel his skin which he was denied when Ichigo moved his face away ever so subtly.

Maybe he deserved that. It appeared that Ichigo had no more to say and Urahara opted to leave him to his musings instead of a barrage of questions and consolations. Really - what more could he say? Words had no effect, Ichigo had refused contact and time… time was not on his side. Not on their side.

Surely, they wouldn't believe that Ichigo died in battle under such suspicious circumstances much longer. They wanted proof and all they had was his word. And though he'd done so much in lending his efforts to the battle and protecting Karakura town, under the thumb of Seireitei's justice system, his word was worthless. If, that is, it ever had value.

His quietly slid the door shut, allowing his eyes to rake over Ichigo's form. The detached and miserable look in his eyes that meant more nights of blocking out the screams, more days of pretending not to hear the wails of pain. Forcing him to eat before he became weak and sickly again.  
_  
This is all my fault Ichigo, but I promise you, I'll find a way, so please…. Don't_

Ichigo closed his eyes tightly and brought his hands to his sweat drenched forehead, digging at his face with his nails. But the faces and voices did not go away. He slid onto his back and pulled the sheet over his head.

Something shined through his closed lids and he reluctantly sought the object. Lying by his face was a small golden key. Proof that something unexplainable had happened.

He still had the key; there was no doubt that it was the same from his dream.

His logic side fought hard but lost, and rolled away gradually with the falling tears.

**  
Dun dun dun. Who is the man from Ichi-nii's dream? What up with kissy-kun? I'd love to hear your comments , questions and speculations! Ichigo heads to the past next chappie. I think I may have spelled he **_**sekkai gate**_** wrong or gotten the whole word wrong since I watched the episode which included it a long time ago. **********

~_~ Kay


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